Building a Kingdom and Conquering the World - Chapter 9: The War (Part 1)

Beneath the vast and infinite starry skies of the universe, countless tribes engage in endless strife, and the flames of war remain unquenched.Rising from insignificance, he possessed no exceptional talents, except for the ability to draw upon the fruits of cultivation from the future.Yet, in a single night, he understood the Dao, and took a step that shattered the shackles of life.With but a thought, he grasped the universal powers, casually breaking down the barriers between spirit and reality.To him, even the most profound and enigmatic of secret tomes were as simple and dull as children's books.Still, he had to go back and fill in the gaps of his cultivation...Some appeared to be glorious, unparalleled geniuses.In reality, they practiced like mad in the shadows to repay their debts...

In this period where countless supporting lead actors always attempt to counterattack, turn over a new leaf or simply refuse to take up the role, his purpose of existing is to fill the role of a good supporting male lead and uphold his duty to the best of his ability. To add the needed lustre to storylines and this world. Only, it’s a pity that someone who is not afraid of god-like enemies will be afraid of pig-like teammates.

In this fantasy world, music and aether rules all. However, there is constant threat of demons and natural catastrophes. The most powerful men are musicians who use music, alchemy, and spells to safeguard their homes. A young man who just wants to find his father and know why his family was exiled, starts his journey of becoming musician – a journey that leads him to the crown of justice and glory.We are born of aether, grow under aether and die as aether. Awe of Aether! – Holy Code.

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”